The Circuitry of a Dying Heart
by EveningCicada
Summary: In the final days before his energy reactor is completely depleted, Blues meets the mysterious and beautiful Cadence. Although he accepts her invitation inside to rest, he knows he must keep moving. He is dying, of course, and must carry out his final hours-alone. But Cadence begins to show him things he never felt. And there is no going back. Please review, thanks!
1. The

**Prologue**

"Are you all right?" Blues knelt down to face the crying girl, curled up and homesick before him. "Are you lost?"

The young girl wiped her eyes and looked up at her mysterious hero. The tears began to flow again. "Th-They came," she hiccuped, "out of nowhere." She glanced at the remains of a few Mets, trashed and destroyed across the ground below. "I d-didn't see them..."

"It's okay," Proto Man coaxed. "They're gone now." He kicked away the scrap and noticed a scratch on the girl's arm. He took off his scarf and used it to wrap her injury.

"Y-You're not like them," she noted, sniffling. He shook his head.

"Where are your parents?" he asked her, tying a final knot around her cut.

"My sister lives that way," she answered, pointing far ahead of them. She must have wandered far from home; Blues had to enable 200% optical zoom to finally spot a small cabin at the crest of a hill. On its porch an older girl paced nervously, probably looking for the child he just rescued.

"I see it," said Blues, reverting back to normal vision. "I'll take you there," he offered, walking a few steps ahead of her. "Let's go."

"No!" she shouted, obviously displeased with the idea. "I'm running away!"

He turned to face her. "You'e running away?" he repeated, and she nodded. "Why?"

"'Cause my sister's a meanie," she justified, crossing her arms and glaring at him with her caramel eyes. Her cheeks were still red from sobbing. "So I left."

Blues chuckled. "Sounds like someone I know." He held out his hand. "But she's probably worried about you," he said, "so maybe you should just visit her."

"No," she said again, sitting down on the grass. Her white dress was fraying at the ends, splotched green and brown with grass and dirt stains. Blues was losing his patience; he had no idea how to reason with a six-year-old.

"Fine," he sighed, out of ideas. He did already offer to help her, after all. He began walking away.

"Wait!" said the girl, scrambling to her feet. "You're gonna leave me here?"

"I thought you were running away?" he told her, not turning around. "To be on your own."

"I-I don't wanna be on my own," she stammered, trying to catch up with him. "Maybe you could stay with me, mister?"

Blues looked at her. "Sorry, but I've got to keep moving."

"Where are you going?"

"I have to tell someone where her sister is," he said. "I think you can help with that."

She grabbed his hand with both of her own, surprised by its warmth. She tried to yank him back. "Please don't!" she begged. "I hate her!"

He pulled his hand away, his pace quickening. "You shouldn't hate your sister," he said sternly. "It isn't good to hate family." For a split second he was reminded of his own, and he pushed the thought away. Not here. Not now.

"Besides," he added, "I saw some more robots on my way here. You don't want to run into those guys again."

The girl's eyes widened with fear. "M-more robots?" she parroted. "Mean robots?" Proto Man nodded.

"Think you can handle them on your own?" he asked.

She considered this, but ultimately admitted she could not. She stared at the scarf tied around her arm.

"So I'll just take you home now, okay?" he said, and finally she gave in. Together they walked the rest of the way home, saying little to each other. Despite what he'd said earlier, Blues didn't detect any other robots in the vicinity, and it wasn't hard to believe. There were hardly any people out here either. In fact, the cabin by the hill seemed to be the only house in the area. When they arrived, an older girl bolted toward them, sweeping up her sister in one swift move.

"Duet!" she cried, squeezing her tightly. "How many times do I have to tell you?"

"Let go of me!" Duet struggled to escape her grip. "I ran away because you're mean!"

"I assume she belongs to you," Blues noted, and the girl looked at him with awe.

"You're the one who found her?" she asked, setting Duet down. He nodded.

"She was hurt." He pointed to his scarf around her arm. "But she'll be okay. Keep an eye on her next time."

Duet tried to show her sister her cut, but she wasn't paying attention. "I _do_ keep an eye on her," she retorted, anger flaring behind her rich brown irises. "I'm doing my best to care for her. Not that that's any of your business."

"I brought her back to you," Blues countered, remaining calm. "You're welcome."

At those words the girl fell silent, guilt trickling into her eyes. "Oh gosh," she said, shaking her head. "You're right. I'm sorry. I didn't mean-" She cut herself off. "Thank you," she said genuinely. "Really. She does this all the time, and it's hard to keep up."

"It wasn't any trouble," he assured her.

"Why don't you come inside?" she suggested. "You could, uh..." She looked him up and down, and wasn't sure what she could offer a robot. She cleared her throat. "You could rest. I can wash your scarf for you."

Blues shook his head. "I don't stay in one place for very long."

"It won't be long," she told him. "I just want to properly repay you." She brushed some auburn hair from her face and hoped he'd comply.

When people were trying their best to be hospitable, it was always easier to let them be. "All right," he sighed with the impression that an hour or two couldn't hurt. "Thank you."

She smiled. "I'm Cadence," she introduced herself. She gestured to her sister, whose eyes stayed on Proto Man with fascination: "And this is Duet, whom you already know. What's your name?"

He looked at the two human girls carefully, wondering what would become of this. Hopefully nothing permanent—he was meant only for temporary things.

"It's Blues," he told them.

There are beginnings everywhere, he knew. Many of them are born from endings. His travels began after the epilogue of his old life. Each place he visited, a part of him was reborn. This too was another small preface to something—he was certain of it.

He thought about this as Cadence waved him inside, as Duet forgot about her former anger and instead talked excitedly about how Blues had rescued her. Beginnings are everywhere.

And that was why he could not stay long.


	2. Greatest

**Chapter One**

"And then Mr. Blues shot his cannon thing and took down all the mean robots!" Duet recalled excitedly, standing on her chair at the kitchen table and re-enacting the scene. Her arm stuck out in front of her to imitate Blues's shooter, complete with sound effects. "Pew pew!"

Cadence chuckled embarrassedly, stopping what she was doing at the sink to remove her sister from the furniture. "Not at the table, Duet," she scolded lightly, smiling at Blues with sympathy. He was sitting in the chair opposite of her, tense with impatience. He wanted to leave. Cadence was being a warm host and was truly trying her hardest, but it wasn't enough to keep him.

Duet fixed herself in the seat normally this time, and Cadence went back to the counter. "Can I help you with anything?" Blues asked her, hoping his assistance would speed up the whole process.

"I'm fine," she answered cheerfully, wiping her hands on a dish towel and setting some utensils on the table. "You're free to rest on the couch inside," she added, "but I figured you'd like some company."

"I'm okay here," he told her honestly. Lying down would take up time, anyway.

"Can I try on your sunglasses, Mr. Blues?" Duet chimed. "They look really cool! Where'd you get 'em?"

"Sorry," apologized Cadence, setting down a platter of food on the table, "we don't get many visitors around here. She's just excited."

He shook his head. "No need for apologies," he said with the smallest of smiles. "She's got some energy, I see." In spite of her moxie, Duet blushed at his compliment, smiling goofily.

"Don't let her tire you out," Cadence warned, ruffling Duet's hair. "She has a tendency to do that sometimes."

"Nuh-uh!" denied her little sister, her dark brown curls bouncing as she shook her head. "Mr. Blues likes me! Probably more than he likes you!"

"It's just Blues," he corrected, holding up a hand. "No need for formalities."

Duet looked at him matter-of-factly. "Cadence says I have to be polite." She glared at her sister. "Or she'll get mean again."

"She thinks I'm evil," Cadence explained, shrugging. "Don't really know why." Before Duet could justify her sister's malevolent ways, Cadence took a seat at the small table and gathered some salad onto her plate. Mid-serving she looked at their robot guest apologetically.

"Is there, uh, anything I can get for you?" she asked awkwardly.

"I don't suppose you have an E Tank," he teased, certain she wouldn't know what that was. Instead she got up from her chair, much to his and Duet's surprise, and offered her signature smile. "Be right back," she said, and was off to another room. So she _did_ know. That was odd.

"What's an E Tank?" asked Duet, crinkling her nose.

He thought for a moment, trying to put it in a way she'd understand: "It's like apple juice for robots." At this she broke into a smile, her eyes glimmering in her delight.

"Ooh," she said, "I wanna try!"

"No, you don't," said Cadence suddenly, setting down the can in front of him. "Do you see Blues drinking _your _juice?" She smiled again at him, and he was pleased she didn't use _Mr._.

"No," sighed the defeated Duet, poking a fork at whatever it was her sister had prepared. His sensors read it was some sort of chicken. He took the can and cracked it open, releasing a satisfying fizz, and held it to lips. _All right_, he thought._ This is worth staying for, at least a little while._

"Does it taste okay?" Cadence asked between chews. "I had it in the storage room for a while. It's kind of old."

Blues set it down so not to chug the whole thing right away. It'd been a long time since he'd had an E Tank; even in the advanced cities they were hard to come by. So why did this girl have them here? Nonetheless, it was delicious, and he told her so. This time, with a smile eased with his passing impatience. If nothing else, it helped him relax.

Cadence beamed. "I'm glad. I didn't think they necessarily go stale, but I couldn't be sure."

"Thank you," he said, rubbing a finger along the metal trim. He looked up at her. "This helps a lot."

She nodded. After swallowing she said, "Your scarf's in the wash. I'll get it after dinner."

"Thanks again," he told her.

"Mr. Blues, do you want some chicken?" Duet offered, pushing her plate to him.

He smiled gently. "I'm good with the E Tank for now," he said, holding up the can. "But I appreciate it." Duet took her plate back and Cadence giggled softly.

"You're being so nice to our guest," she told her sister. "I'm proud of you." Duet smiled proudly and sat a little straighter, pleased that her hospitality had been noticed.

As the two finished their meal, Blues found himself looking carefully at Cadence. She had pulled her hair up in a twisted bun to cook, and a couple of auburn strands fell by her face, tickling her cheeks. Her eyes were rich swirls of dark chocolate and, like her sister's, they dazzled and sparked to life when she smiled. She was pleasant to look at, and something stirred inside him when she caught his eye. He quickly turned away and sipped the rest of his E Tank.

After dinner, Duet sped off to her room while Cadence cleared the table. Blues helped her by stacking the dirty dishes and placed them in the sink.

"You don't have to," she said to him, shaking her head. "I got it."

"Are you sure?" he asked, and she nodded. He took a breath. "I guess I should be going, then," he said slowly, and just as he said the words he heard the familiar _pit-pat_ of rain hitting the roof. They both looked up. Cadence shifted uncomfortably, massaging a dish towel in her hands.

"You don't have to travel in the rain," she told him. "Do you want to wait it out?"

"I'll be fine," he assured her, tossing the empty E Tank into the trash can. "Thanks for everything"—he swallowed—"Cadence, was it?"

She smiled tightly. "Yeah. Hold on, I have your scarf." Right then Duet came rushing in, a very familiar yellow cape flowing past her shoulders.

"Look at me!" she exclaimed, out of breath from giggling. "I look just like Mr. Blues!" Proto Man smiled bashfully, flattered he had an admirer.

"Look at you," he said softly, kneeling down to match her height. He took some of his scarf in his hands, rubbing it between his fingers. "You make a very fine Blues."

She laughed and pointed at his shooter. "I don't have anything that looks like that, though."

"Thank God," Cadence muttered.

Blues looked at his arm cannon. "You don't want anything like this," he told Duet, "believe me."

"But then I can't fight robots," she pointed out disappointedly.

He shook his head. "If you're lucky, you won't ever have to fight anything."

"Except your sister," Cadence quipped.

"_Especially_ your sister," he corrected. He stood back up and told Duet to keep the scarf.

"Really?" She beamed, but Cadence was ready to take it by force.

"No no," said Cadence, "it's yours. What is she going to do with it anyway?"

"More than you could!" Duet retaliated, sticking out her tongue.

Blues only nodded. "She can keep it. Plus yellow's a cute color on her." Behind him he heard Duet chuckle embarrassedly again, dizzy from his compliment. He looked to the ceiling. "That rain's not going away, is it? I better get moving."

Cadence opened her mouth to object but gave up, pressing her lips together. "Okay," she said with a nod. "I understand." Blues turned back around to Duet and patted her head; she opened her arms to a hug and he accepted. With a smirk she patted the lush curl of his brown hair in return.

"Nice meeting you," he said, intending it to be directed at both of them. Instead his eyes stayed on Cadence, who gave her tight smile again and responded, "Likewise." She looked in pain somehow; he preferred her other bright-eyed, dimpled grin much better.

"Protect your sister, okay?" he told Duet. She planted her hands on her hips and nodded. He chuckled as he headed for the door—that was another thing a robot could not experience. Youth. To be young and confident, imbedded with the belief that you are a superhero and can make the bad guys go away. But as adults, humans lost that sense of heart. _What a shame_, he thought. _Such a precious thing to lose._

"Wait!" said Cadence suddenly. Blues turned around, one foot on the porch outside. Some stray raindrops flew into the house, and a slight wind made the room run cold. He waited for her to say something else, and behind her Duet stared at her curiously.

"Never mind," she said quietly, talking to the floor. "I was thinking of something else." She went silent after that, and as curious as he was, Blues did not pursue.

The rain splattered against his visors as he left the small cabin behind. His oversized metal shoes dragged through the mud, and already he was hoping for someplace dry to spend the night. He walked as far as he could but, before settling down underneath a tree, made sure the light of the house was still visible. If one didn't know better, he'd think it a star, so distant and golden. But still it was there, and so was Cadence within its walls. Robots didn't dream, but he liked to think he dreamt of her that night—brushing the hair from her eyes, smiling and calling him Blues, without the _Mr._.


	3. Killer

**Chapter Two**

The next morning Cadence could not think. She poured coffee into Duet's teddy bear mug and apple juice into her own. It took half an hour to realize her robe was on inside out, and even then it was her six-year-old sister who pointed it out to her. Her knee jittered anxiously as she sat at the kitchen table, thumbing through yesterday's newspaper she didn't get the chance to read. The words seemed to blur together into an incomprehensible gray mess, so she soon gave up. Duet looked up from a coloring book and examined Cadence's pensive expression.

"Are you thinking about Mr. Blues?" she asked, and his name violently snapped Cadence back to reality.

"N-no," Cadence answered, shaking her head. "Something else." She sipped her coffee (which had to be transferred to the correct mug) and turned away from her sister's wide-eyed gaze. They were both quiet a moment, until Duet piped back up again.

"I think he liked you," she said, picking up a red crayon and shading in a flower. "Maybe even _like-liked_ you."

"Robots can't _like-like_ somebody," said Cadence. "You know that." They were advanced creations, but of course they were bound by their coding. A robot capable of human-like affection and desire would prove dangerous, so of course the concept would be scrapped. Humans didn't need any competition.

"Maybe he's a different kind of robot," countered Duet, not looking up. "A new one."

Cadence turned back to her sister. "Stop talking about him," she said more sharply than she'd intended. "We're not going to see Blues ever again." She caught sight of his scarf hanging loosely around Duet's shoulders and felt a tightening in her chest. "Did you sleep in that?" she asked more gently.

Duet stopped coloring and nodded, rubbing the end of the fabric between her fingers. She looked up at Cadence, who was fixated on the thing, frowning and chewing her lower lip.

"Here," Duet offered, handing her sister the yellow scarf. "Maybe you'll feel better."

Cadence smiled softly and accepted, holding the smooth cloth and gripping it tightly underneath the table. Despite the overreactions and tantrums that typically came with children, sometimes Duet knew exactly what her sister was feeling.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Blues slowly came back online, a little later than his usual wakeup setting. It took him a minute to remember where he was and where he had been, but he could just make out the cottage at the crook of the hill and recalled the events of the previous day. His hair was still damp from last night's rain, and a quick scan of the area suggested it had poured even more while he was sleeping. The tree must not have provided sufficient cover.

_Another day_, he thought, _to live as I wish. Another day to press on before I meet my inevitable fate._ He stood up and looked back at the house one last time, reminding himself that he had to keep moving. Dr. Light had given him "life," and life was not meant for standing still.

Or thinking about a girl.

He pushed Cadence out of his mind, pushed away her glistening dark eyes and the stray strands of hair against her cheeks. He threw away the pained smile she gave him when he was about to leave, the "Wait!" she shouted suddenly when he was halfway out the door.

Keep moving, keep moving, he repeated over and over. To press on and keep traveling was not something Blues usually had to force himself to do, but today it was different. He turned his back to the house in the distance and convinced himself it was the long, aimless trek ahead that made him regret leaving it behind.

The first couple of steps were the most difficult, but not for the reason he expected. Pain sensors spiked from his knees and elbows so that he had to sit back down. After a couple of system inspections (he found nothing unusual), he figured some of the overnight rain must have seeped into his joints and was causing problems. As much as he was eager to keep moving, he was forced to stay put for a little while. But when he couldn't sit still any longer, he set out for a town that he could gain some assistance from, namely in the form of a spare bottle of oil.

Blues limped a little over a mile until he came upon a small village. There were small, quiet houses with uneven lawns that sat separately from each other. Unfinished, crooked fences stuck up haphazardly from the ground with their splintery wood. There were only a couple of main roads, and few cars. Compared to what else he had seen, the town seemed incredibly backward. There were no prominent buildings or crowded streets. There were only a few people outside, sipping orange juice on their tiny front porches and reading the paper. Those who bothered to look up from what they were doing eyed Blues curiously, obviously unused to seeing an unaccompanied robot strolling through their town. He became uncomfortable asking for help, what with such frequent stares, but at the end of the town was a hardware store he figured was worth a shot.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

After Duet ran off to her usual spot in the back room, Cadence took care of opening the store. She cleaned the windows, which, despite her constant cleaning, were always coated in dust or something else unpleasant. She replaced the receipt tape in the cash register as well as a lightbulb that had given up on its role. She was in the middle of transporting some half-empty boxes of tools to the shelf where she'd stock them, when the bell on the door chimed with the promise of a customer.

"Excuse me, uh," said someone from behind her, "do you have any oil?" Cadence set down the tower of boxes and turned around.

"We do," she said, nearly out of breath. "How much-" She stopped mid-sentence when she saw who it was. Surely he was surprised too, despite his eyes not being visible behind the dark shades. His lips parted a little in his mild shock. Cadence was still for a second, convinced if she blinked often enough he'd vanish.

"Blues," she said quietly, the name suddenly weird in her mouth.

"Cadence," he said softly. He glanced at her dark green apron. "I didn't recognize you from behind. You work here?"

She nodded. "Everyday." She glanced around the store, from the wall of screwdrivers and hammers to the bins of locks and chains. Below the large window at the front sat neatly lined cans of paint. At the far end of the store hung other various tools and hardware accessories. The building seemed much smaller with its crowded inventory. The walls were bare wood and gave the place a rustic, country vibe, and it was almost always empty.

"You said you needed something?" said Cadence, turning back to Blues.

He nodded. "Just some oil. I think the rain might've gotten into my joints last night, and they could use some reconditioning."

"Oh, of course," she answered. "Let me get you a bottle. Take a seat." She gestured to a stool by the check-out counter and ran off to the storage room. As she opened the door, she nearly tripped over a crayon that had rolled away from Duet's coloring space in the corner. She was seated on a crate with a notebook balanced on her tiny knees, scribbling something.

"Duet," she sighed, picking up the green crayon and tossing it over to her, "please keep your stuff together. I don't want anyone dying over a crayon." She bent down and retrieved a bottle of oil from a storage cubby.

"Sorry," said Duet absentmindedly, focused on her drawing. "How many more hours?"

"We just got here," answered her sister as she made her way out of the room. "Hang in there, kiddo." She shut the door behind her and returned to Blues, placing the bottle on the counter.

"Thanks," he mumbled. "Um, I don't have much to pay you, but-"

"No charge," she interrupted with a wave of her hand. "Don't worry about it."

"What?" he said, surprised. "Won't your boss get angry?"

Cadence shrugged. "I can cover it. It's not that expensive." She looked at him, searching for signs of damage. "Are you okay?"

He nodded, taking the bottle and twisting off the cap. As he opened it Cadence reached under the counter and handed him a spout, which he accepted gratefully and attached to the opening.

"Is this place always this empty?" asked Blues.

"Pretty much," she replied, bringing over another stool and placing her elbows on the counter. She rested her chin in her palms. "Small town shops usually are."

He was applying oil to his knees when he admitted, "I didn't think you worked in a place like this."

She wasn't sure how to respond at first. "What do you mean?" she asked with a chuckle. "I like my job." Maybe that was a stretch. Perhaps the better answer was that she didn't mind her job. It put bread on the table and kept her busy, and that was all she expected.

"I don't know," he said, oiling his wrist. He looked up at her. "I thought you'd be in school or something." Cadence went white, her eyes frozen to the wooden counter. Blues caught her unusual expression and wondered if he said something wrong. He was about to ask if he hit a nerve when she snapped back to the conversation, smiling tightly.

"Well, it _is_ summer," she reminded him, although she didn't quite believe it herself. A flash of sadness darted across her eyes, and Blues wondered if he was seeing things.

"Oh yeah," he said, keeping careful watch on her expression. "Students are off now." But something still wasn't right. She picked at her nail and took a deep breath; her shoulders slowly rose and fell.

"I'm not in school," she concluded, her lips tired with the words she's said so many times before.

Blues forced himself not to think much of it, just flexed his wrists a couple of times before putting the cap back on the bottle. "I see," he said, trying to shake off his curiosity. He set down the almost-empty oil bottle. "I guess I owe you one," he added.

Cadence looked at the bottle for a moment as though she wasn't sure what it was. It took her a moment to remember how it got there, and what he was using it for. She chased her sudden melancholy away and looked up the robot before her.

"I said not to worry about it," she said of the oil. She pushed it towards him. "You can take the rest." The door to the storage room opened and shut, and out came a sleepy-eyed Duet, notebook tucked underneath her arm.

"Cadence," she mumbled tiredly, "I'm bored." Cadence turned to her sister, grateful for the distraction. She hopped off the stool and helped her sister on, telling her, "Look who's here."

Duet's eyes dazzled excitedly. "Mr. Blues!" she exclaimed, her mouth opening into a wide, surprised smile.

"It's just Blues," he told her again with a small grin.

Duet ignored him. "What are you doing here?" she asked instead.

Cadence gestured to the bottle of oil. "He needed—"

"—to say hello," Blues finished, looking over to Cadence, who was surprised by his sudden interruption, but smiled gently. Her eyes softened, and Blues felt heat rise in his cheeks.

"Wasn't that nice?" she said to Duet, who nodded excitedly.

"Where did you go after you left?" Duet asked. "Cadence said you were traveling."

Blues looked down. "Traveling," he mused. _Wandering_ would have been a better word, but Blues liked her original term. It sounded more promising. He looked back up at Duet, whose eyes were young and curious. "Yeah," he said finally, "I've been to many places."

"Can you name a few?" Cadence asked, pulling up another stool and taking a seat, showing interest in the conversation.

Blues swallowed. "Uh, Symphony City, Amethyst Falls," he recollected. "Peach Plateau, Cold Front Creek..."

"Wow," noted Cadence, impressed. "You really get around, don't you?" Blues only shrugged.

"And where do you come from?" asked Duet.

"Nowhere," came the automatic answer. But he realized this response was rather curt in this circumstance, so he elaborated, "I mean, uh, Mega City. That's where I was built."

Cadence stiffened. "Mega City..." she mused softly. Right then a customer walked in, the bell on the door sounding too sharp for this delicate train of thought. She looked up quickly, nearly jumping from her chair to assist the man who just entered. "Be right back," she excused herself quickly. "Um, hi," she said to the customer. "Can I help you?" He mentioned something about a toolbox while Duet and Blues were left alone.

Blues couldn't think of how to begin a conversation with her (or if he should at all), so for a minute they sat there quietly, awkwardly. "Um," he began, and Duet looked up. She didn't look like her sister at all—her hair was too dark, her eyes were too light. Only their smiles were the same. She was looking at him expectantly, so he went on: "Do you, uh, help your sister at work?" She was probably too young, of course, but perhaps she was capable of a few odd jobs—maybe refilling the pen jar or something.

"No," she answered simply. "She says I'll get her into trouble."

"Trouble?" Blues parroted.

"Her boss is mean," Duet clarified. "Cadence said he doesn't like kids. So I stay in the back room." She gestured behind her, pointing to a door. "Right there. See?"

Blues followed her hand and nodded. "Does it ever get lonely?" he asked gently.

"Lonely?" she repeated, as though it was a foreign word. She shook her head. "Not really." He noticed her notebook then, extending a finger. "What's that?" he asked. "I noticed you carrying it before."

Duet took the notebook and hugged it to her chest. "It's top-secret," she explained with a shy grin. "I can't show you."

Blues chuckled, amused by her innocence. What could she possibly have that was worth hiding? "Oh," he said, "I'm sorry. I'll respect your privacy." He glanced at Cadence as she walked past, catching her scent as it hung in the air. Cranberry hand soap, his sensors read. And something else, something he couldn't quite place.

Duet began talking again. "Do you ever get lonely, Mist—I mean, Blues?" she asked him, gazing at him with caramel eyes.

He shifted uncomfortably. "Me? Well..." He cleared his throat. "I guess everyone does, at least sometimes." He squinted behind his shades. "Why?"

She shrugged, looking up at her sister as she whizzed past again. She watched Blues as his eyes glued to Cadence once more.

"You know, Cadence is lonely too," Duet said suddenly, and something jumped within him when she mentioned her name. He realized Duet caught him staring, and the back of his neck grew hot; he prayed his thermostat wasn't malfunctioning. "But she was happy when you came over," she added. "Like she made a new friend."

"Uh," he stammered nervously, "I—"

"Duet," spoke Cadence suddenly, a brown toolbox in her hand. She set it on the counter while the man wrestled with his pocket for his wallet. "What are you telling Blues that you've made him so uncomfortable?"

"Nothing," said Duet as Blues told her, "I'm not uncomfortable."

"Your cheeks are as red as your shoes," Cadence remarked, punching something into the cash register.

"N-no they're not," he muttered, turning away. He sighed, hearing her chortle under her breath.

"Some haircut there, kid," spoke someone from beside him. He saw the customer eye his hairstyle critically, realizing he didn't mean it as a compliment. Blues nodded at him embarrassedly, too annoyed to say anything. The man collected his change and headed back out, and the store fell quiet again. Duet was the one to break the silence.

"Hey, since you're here, can you come over again?" she asked the robot, hope dancing behind her irises.

He glanced at Cadence, who looked at her sister with doubt. There were some grease stains on her apron, and it almost seemed as though it belonged to somebody else—it looked odd on her, the way it sat bulkily on her thin frame. Her soft features were too delicate for a place of hammers and nails. Some of her hair was hidden underneath a bandana, which tied crookedly just behind her ear. She was a mystery for sure, but Blues swore he never saw anybody so out of place in his life.

He remembered what Duet had said about her sister feeling lonely. In truth, his long travels were unbearably solitary, and if what she said was true, then he shared her understanding of feeling lonesome.

"All right," he said now, more to Cadence than to Duet. Cadence looked up when he answered, and for the split second her eyes locked onto his there was a sudden twinge in his chest. He felt a stuttering where his power generator lay (Dr. Light had sometimes called this his "heart") and he willed it to to be still—not here, not now.

"What," said Cadence with a smirk, "no more interesting places you'd rather head off to?"

"Well," countered Blues, tossing a small grin her way, "I did say I owed you one."


	4. Is

**Chapter Three**

* * *

**Hi everyone! EveningCicada here. Time ran away from me again. I hope you are enjoying this story, even if it takes me an era to update it. You can expect an update at least once a month from now on. Life can get pretty busy, so don't fret if I don't post something for a while. I have all intentions to complete this story. Thanks for the follows/favorites, and I'd be grateful if you'd review too! :)**

* * *

"You two live here by yourselves?" asked Blues. The sun was just about to sleep as they stepped into the cabin. Cadence flicked a switch and sent light across the room, illuminating the coffee table and couches of the living area.

She nodded. "My mom died a couple of years ago," she said softly, watching Duet race ahead of them and make a beeline for the sofa. "So Duet's in my care now. It's why I've been working so hard." She smiled sheepishly.

"O-oh," he stammered, caught off-guard. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize..."

She shrugged. "Don't apologize," she told him. "I'm okay now. Duet too." She walked to the small kitchen and motioned for Blues to follow. He pulled out a chair at the table while she placed a teapot on the stove.

"So, uh, how do you get to the hardware store?" asked Blues. "It's far from here."

Cadence nodded. "It's the entire next town over." She opened the cabinet and retrieved a mug, and a tea bag from the drawer below. "I walk. Had to sell the car after Mom died, and I didn't really want to move into the village."

"I can't really blame you," Blues muttered, remembering the town's underdevelopment.

"I love this house," she continued, "and I'll walk to work to keep it, even if it means dragging along with me a cranky sister." She adjusted something on the stove before turning to him, asking if he wanted an E Tank. When he answered affirmatively she left the room and returned with one, setting it on the table. He thanked her and she gave a fleeting smile.

"So, Duet," he began, cracking open the can. "She even comes with you to work?"

"Yup," she replied, taking a seat across from him. "She's a trooper. Well, that, and she has no choice."

"Well," he mused softly, "it's hard without a parent." He focused on the finished wood of the table and held his breath.

Cadence looked at him oddly. "Yeah, it is," she agreed, but wasn't sure he could feel quite what she had over the past two years. She knew he was just being polite, but didn't need someone to feel sympathy for her—a _robot_ at that. "But it's okay," she said again, a little less certainly this time. "Time heals everything."

"Does it," he said flatly, taking another sip. Time would not heal him, Blues knew. As each day passed he knew he was lucky to remain functioning. He ran away from his solution, turned his back to the man who would have healed him. And within that fold of betrayal he accepted he was unable to lead a long "life," deciding instead to spend his remaining days as he desired. But the threat of shutdown was ever-present, and in due time he would reach his end.

Cadence watched Blues deep in thought, wondering what he was contemplating. His face was pulled together in—pain, was it? His cheeks had color, she noticed, his hair was lush and full—he looked remarkably human, she was realizing now. His speech was well-developed and he spoke with thought; his movements were not mechanical but sensitive and fluid. He amazed her—every detail wanted her to believe he was not a machine, but a young man.

Blues caught her staring and she turned away, but not before noticing the splash of red that spotted his cheeks. He pressed his lips together and looked away also, seeming embarrassed.

_Fascinating_, thought Cadence. _He's even been designed with human awkwardness._

"Uh," he began, glancing around the kitchen. "You have a...nice home." The cabinets above the counter had little windows, where colorful bowls and glasses peeked through. A tangle of ivy hung from a flowerpot on the wall. Like the hardware store earlier, Cadence's home had a rustic feel—the walls and counters were a warm chestnut, and the room's small size made it cozy.

The teapot on the stove began to whistle, calling her to retrieve it and put together her tea. When she finished she sat across from Blues again, warming her hands around the mug.

"Thank you," she told him. "My mother decorated." She glanced around the room. "All the time, actually. We never had the same curtains twice."

He nodded, careful not to meet her eyes. He knew if he did, part of him would break. "Do you miss her?"

She sighed deeply, stretching her shoulders to her ears and dropping them back down. "Of course I do. And her curtains."

Blues looked to the window, which rested nakedly above the sink. "Is that why you haven't replaced them?" he asked.

Cadence craned her neck behind her to see. "Yeah," she said. "It felt weird at first, but even weirder having the same ones for so long." She shrugged. "So I took them down altogether."

They fell silent; from the living room mumbled the TV, a news anchor announcing rising stock prices. And then a sales pitch, and then the automated laughter of a sitcom. Blues leaned back in his seat, examining the rim of the E Tank—he still had no idea where she got it from.

"Your creator," she said suddenly, tugging at her tea bag. "Does he know where you are?"

He looked up at her. Why was she talking about this? He wanted to avoid any conversation featuring the life he had retired.

"No," he answered evenly, "he doesn't know anything."

"Really," she said gently. "Isn't he worried?"

"If you don't mind," he told her, suddenly distant, "I'd really rather not discuss it."

_What could have gone wrong?_ Cadence pondered. _Did I open a wound?_

"I'm sorry," she told him. "I didn't mean to upset you."

_To upset_. That was a human verb. Robots were not supposed to get upset.

"He didn't see everything through," Blue muttered, remembering his flawed energy reactor. "He made mistakes. Fatal mistakes."

The girl stiffened. "Mistakes?" she repeated. "Doesn't everyone? We're all hu—" She cut herself short. _Human_, she was about to say. _We're all human_. But that wasn't true. Not at all.

She wanted to ask what drove a wedge between him and his creator, but knew better than to pursue the issue. He'd talk if wanted to—after all, he'd already walked miles on his own accord.

"Is that why you ran away?" she asked instead, realizing only as the words left her mouth that it was probably just as bad an option.

"I didn't run away," Blues said quickly, the lie stinging his tongue. He looked up at her then; her softened gaze should have comforted him, but it only pierced his gut. Her eyes were sympathetic, almost sad—for a second he saw himself in her, a mirror of his pain. Something felt unusual in his stomach—an odd, fluttering feeling. He turned away from her and the fluttering eased. _We are not the same, _he repeated in his mind. _We are not the same._

"I don't want to talk about it," he said again, more quietly this time. "I'm sorry."

Before Cadence could say something, tiny feet pattered across the kitchen floor. "Blues!" Duet called. The robot turned around.

"Are you going to stay here tonight?" she asked. The light in her eyes was unmistakeable. For some hidden reason, it hurt to look at them.

He wasn't sure how to answer this. He glanced at Cadence, who also was looking at him in question.

"You can if you want to," she told him. "I don't mind."

Blues thought about his travels: _How often have I been invited to spend the night? _Not ever. Then again, he'd done his best to avoid other people as much as he could. And that had worked. He was good at being alone—he always had been.

He took a breath. "I don't think so," he said to Duet, trying to ignore the disappointment in her eyes. "I have to keep moving." The words were stale now; even he hated the sound of them.

"And go where?" Cadence asked him. Not merely a question—a challenge. Where was so important, and why was he in such a rush to get there?

"I'll know it when I find it," he countered. Their eyes locked—or at least Cadence thought they did. It was impossible to see anything beyond his dark shades.

"Have you ever thought," she said softly, "that maybe you're looking too hard?"

Her voice was so gentle and sincere it almost pained him. She reminded him of Dr. Light, who had always been just as compassionate. He shoved the feeling aside.

Duet broke apart his thoughts. "I can read you a bedtime story," she offered. He nearly forgot she was there.

Blues inhaled deeply, although he didn't need the oxygen. Dr. Light often sighed when he wasn't feeling well. But what was 'well' for a robot? _Can I be well although I am dying?_

"Sure," he gave in, "that sounds wonderful."

The two shared a couch in the living room. Duet splayed his scarf over his legs as a makeshift blanket, then balanced a book on her lap. She began reading a tale of a lost puppy. It was a child's story, accompanied by colorful illustrations on each page. The ending—of course—was a happy one. Humans couldn't bear unsatisfactory results. So after days of looking for Rover, the family was finally reunited. But he wan't listening very much—instead he was plagued with a burning question:_ Has Dr. Light been looking for me?_

His gaze floated to Cadence, who was sitting on the recliner across from them. Her eyelids had been heavy, and finally she closed them. Her hair fell in delicate tangles around her face. She was somewhere far from here, lost in her thoughts. Or maybe they were memories.

_What's that word the humans use—beautiful?_ Yes, that was it. _Beautiful and what else?_

Blues looked at her again. He wanted so badly to understand. But the two of them were such different things.

_Never. _That was the word._ Beautiful and never._


	5. Love--

**Chapter Four**

**A/N: Hi everyone! Sorry for the late update. I hope you all enjoyed the holiday! Please enjoy. ^_^**

* * *

"_It fits you well, my boy. But will it hinder you in battle?"_

"_Nonsense. It won't leave my shoulders."_

"_Ho ho, at least let me wash it now and again!"_

"_Heh, if you must, Doctor."_

Blues ran the silky fabric through his fingers. The ends were beginning to fray with wear; he pulled away some stray thread. His yellow scarf reminded him of Dr. Light and the day they spotted it in a storefront window. It was a piece of home that he used to wear with pride. But he believed now that the only reason it was still with him, and still intact, was out of habit.

"You're awake?" Duet asked from the other side of the couch. Blues hadn't slept at all. Most nights he was fine and followed his usual sleep setting, but especially lately, it was harder to rest. He figured this was because of the extra labor his system was performing to keep him alive without regular tuneups. A robot with insomnia. That was a new one.

"So are you," he answered the girl. "Can't sleep?"

Duet crawled over the mess of blankets and sat closer to him. She shrugged. "Guess not." She yawned like a tiny lion, her eyes squeezed shut and her mouth open wide. "But I'm still tired. It doesn't make sense."

"Some things rarely do," he mused. He stared at his scarf again. He was far past contemplating whether running away had been a mistake. But that was no matter; there were other ways to worry: _Has Dr. Light given up on me by now? Is he relieved by my absence? How does he spend his days now?_

"Where did you get this?" Duet asked, running a small hand along the fabric. "It's really cool."

It took Blues a minute to crawl out of his thoughts. He considered her question carefully, and answered her honestly: "It belonged to someone I knew."

"Someone you knew?" she parroted. "Like a friend?"

He shrugged. "Not really."

"Was he a robot too?"

Robot. She meant it innocently, but in an odd way it sounded somehow derogatory.

"It didn't seem that way back then," he said, remembering all the times Dr. Light referred to him as _son_, or _my boy_. "But now it's all too apparent."

Duet nodded like she understood. "What happened to him?" Her gaze was unrelenting. Although his night vision wasn't what it used to be (slowly, it seemed, parts of him were decaying), he could just make out her curious stare. He looked down. "He left one night," he said, more to the floor than to her, "in the pouring rain, and never returned."

She was quiet, unsure of what to make of his explanation. But she felt bad for him somehow. "I'm sorry," she told him after a while, because it was the truth; Cadence had told her that whenever she was lost for words, she should at least be honest.

"I think you should keep the scarf, actually," she added. "It reminds you of that...person."

She draped it over his shoulders for him. He touched it gently, placing the end of it near his nose. His sensors detected hints of seaside lavender. He remembered Cadence washed it a couple days ago; this must be the detergent she used.

"Thank you," he said to Duet, tying a knot in the fabric so it became a scarf once more.

Duet closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the cushion. "You know, Cadence says robots can live forever," she murmured, her voice getting smaller, "so you'll probably see him again." He watched her face relax as she found sleep once more.

Blues didn't tell her that he was already long gone, that it would take more energy than he was willing to give to bring him back. He didn't mention that there were some robots who could die. And he certainly never added that he was afraid of the end.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"You're still here."

A robot was sprawled on the stairs of the porch. His back was against one banister, his feet pressed against the other—as though he were blocking anyone from entering or exiting. He looked up at Cadence when she spoke, though his expression was impossible to read from behind the dark shades.

"Yeah," said Blues, then looked back at the expansive field before him, "I guess I am."

She hugged her sides. Although it was the height of summer, there was an unmistakable morning chill today. It might've been the sun hiding behind the trees. "Where are you headed next?"

He didn't turn around. "I don't know," he answered after a minute. "Maybe the kitchen. I could use an E Tank."

Cadence was baffled. She stared at him, wide-eyed. "You're going to stay?" she asked.

Blues shrugged, still not facing her. "Might as well. If it's okay with you, of course." He looked up at her then, offering a small grin. "You don't charge rent, do you?"

She chuckled. "If business stays slow I might have to." She leaned back against the closed door, suddenly serious. "You don't have to, you know," she said softly, the way she might speak to an old friend. "I know Duet was probably begging you-"

"She wasn't," he interjected. "This was my decision."

_My decision._ The words rolled expertly off his tongue. He had practiced them before.

Cadence took a breath. "I don't have much to offer you. And life here is slow. Sometimes we're lucky if the clock moves at all."

"Believe me," said Blues, his voice stronger than she expected, "I could use some of that stillness."

She forced a smile. "You're welcome to stay," she said, "but can you promise me something first?"

He nodded once, after a bout of hesitation. She spoke to him gently: "You're not worrying someone, are you?" Her words were wounds; he looked down, far away from her gaze, and stiffened. "I'll bet someone really misses you," she added. "Can you stay here knowing that?"

He sighed. "I wouldn't put money on that bet," spoke Blues, untangling himself from the stairs, "because it's really not true." He got up without a reason. The conversation pressed him to move.

"You don't know that," she countered, dropping her crossed arms.

Blues took a step forward. "Then where is he?" he asked sharply.

For a second she just stared at him, marveling at the pain in his face. He was more hurt than angry.

"If he really cared about me," he went on, "then why hasn't he looked for me?" He stepped closer still, and lowered his voice. "Tell me, when a human child is missing, they file reports, right?"

Cadence swallowed. His thought process astounded her. It was remarkable to see a robot compare himself to a human so freely.

"Y-yes," she told him, suddenly unsure if that was the right answer. "But maybe—"

_Maybe he hasn't looked for you because he was terrified he'd never find you again._

Blues opened the door back into the house. "He'll just build another Robot Master," he continued on his way inside. "I'm sure he has the parts. He probably thinks I'm easy to replace."

"'Robot Master'?" Cadence repeated, her brows in a knot. She trailed behind him. "I don't think he wants to replace you—"

"You know why he doesn't care?" he interrupted. He spun around to face her. "Because I'm a prototype. Humans are never prototypes—no, they're precious from the very beginning. But me—" He put a hand to his chest. "I'm just a practice run! An intro stage!"

"Do you have any idea," she said to him, "how important that is?" His emotion was contagious. She felt the blood boil beneath her skin. "You're proof of your creator's genius. You're his masterpiece, Blues."

He looked at her brokenly. "I'm just saying," he spoke softly, "you don't give up on someone who means something to you."

She took slow, careful breaths. "I'm sure he never intended for you to feel so betrayed." She searched his face. "It's betrayal you feel, isn't it?"

He didn't answer right away. His eyes were attached to the floor. "And...embarrassed." The word tasted new in his mouth. He met her gaze then, surprised to see pain trace the soft edges her face. "I shouldn't speak about this to you. Did I damage—er, hurt you?"

"No," she told him, holding up a hand, "I was out of line. I pried, even when you told me not to talk about it." She held her elbows, feeling cold again.

At that moment Duet came downstairs, and looked at the two of them in question. "Is everything okay?" she asked from the middle step. She placed a hand on the banister. "I heard yelling."

Cadence glanced at her sister, then at Blues. "Please stay," she told him. "I won't ask questions anymore."

He was barely listening. All he could think about was the sudden "pain" in his chest. It was small at first, but slowly bloomed into something awful that he could feel throughout his body.

"I-I'm going outside a minute," he muttered, and walking to the door seemed a colossal effort.

He tried to ignore his blurring vision. _Maybe it's my fault_, he thought. _Maybe I'm thinking too much. Maybe this is why other robots are not allowed to think._

Inches from the door, his knees gave and he collapsed. He didn't fall all the way, though; he stared at the floor, suspended above it, and contemplated the sudden change in gravity.

"Whoa," said Cadence, catching him just in time. "Are you all right?" Her words made him cringe.

"_Blues, son, are you okay?"_

"_I-I'm fine, Doctor. It's only a minor injury."_

"_No injury is too minor. I really should fix your core before you short-circuit yourself to a crisp..."_

"I'm fine!" he exclaimed suddenly. The memories were unbearable. Despite the ever-bearing threat of collapse, his memories always stayed crisp. If he wasn't already a walking death sentence, his mind would rip him apart for sure.

When Cadence tried to steady him he rammed his elbow into something. He hadn't intended to hurt her, just to send her away. She yelped and stumbled backward, muttering a swear through her throbbing lip.

Her sister was suddenly beside her, tugging at her shirt desperately. "Cadence," said Duet, her voice small, "you said robots can't hurt humans."

Cadence pulled her hand from her mouth, tasting the blood on her tongue. "It's okay," she told her, not taking her eyes from Blues. "He doesn't realize what he's doing." She turned to her sister. "Go upstairs. I'll take care of him." Duet nodded nervously, eyeing Blues cautiously on her way to the staircase.

"Cadence," said Blues, horrified, "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean-" He reached for her but fell onto his knees instead. The room—perhaps the whole world—rocked back and forth violently, sending him crashing onto his cheek. Sparks sizzled from his joints.

_So this is what it's like to die._

He felt so heavy he was certain he'd fall through the floor. Everything stiffened. Any minute now his chest would tear open, and his toxic energy core would deal the final blow. He waited for it. He waited to be taken under. Or over, wherever dying robots went.

His vision stuttered one final time, then went completely black, before he could further anticipate his "death." Before he could feel steady arms lifting him from his spot on the unforgiving hardwood floor. Before he could feel fingers in his hair, then on his cheek, a voice murmuring, "You'll be all right. No one is beyond repair."


	6. So

**Chapter Five**

The world was sound asleep, but Cadence had never been more awake.

Her hands glided carefully over the robot's control panel. Scorch marks stained its interior; in some parts she could still smell the burning metal. For someone who seemed so human, these mechanical components were a surprise. She almost didn't expect to see them beneath his skin.

"Don't electrocute me," Cadence muttered. She attached cables to his open chest, plugging them into the generator she had brought up from the basement. This would provide the robot with a full recharge. She temporarily shut Blues down; with an eerie sigh the mechanical engineerings of his body went to sleep.

Her mother's record player sang tiredly in the background. She could never work in silence—music had always been a reliable companion. Humans, she knew, were sometimes capable of hearing even while unconscious. She wondered if Blues could hear her now, as she brushed the hair from his forehead. When she touched his cheek, he was still warm with the imitation of life. Or, well, warm from his overheated systems. It didn't matter. Even in shut-down he looked almost alive.

But he wasn't. He may have been the first of his kind, but he was still programmed to imitate the behavior of humans. It was oddly difficult to accept this-for she never had an issue before-but she swallowed the fact just the same.

She explored curiously the inner workings of his chest. His mechanics were nearly flawless. Only the lightest, most durable metal had been utilized to ensure both efficiency and protection. If she could just find a clue that would lead to his startling collapse today…

Not far into her examination, she gave up with an exasperated sigh. She wiped a splash of oil from her cheek. There was so much to dissect, and not nearly enough time. She would ask him when he awoke if he'd ever "fainted" like that before.

With the quick punch of a code, Blues's temperature finally came down, his stats fully balanced. But before she restarted the comatose robot, something caught her eye: the weak remains of a power generator, nearly black with soot.

His energy core was horribly scorched as—she inferred—the result of extreme overheating. A chemical imbalance, perhaps? An injury? She wasn't certain. Whatever the cause, the burns were more than hazardous. "Fatal," even, if robots could die.

Machines were susceptible to malfunction. That was a given. So why did this feel less like a technical error, and more like a death sentence?

"What happened to you?" she whispered.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_Blues approached the stereo. "Doctor, what is this sound?" he asked, inspecting it curiously._

_Dr. Light looked up from his work. "Ah, isn't that nice?" he remarked. "That's called music, my boy. It exists all around the world, in all kinds of cultures."_

_The robot gently touched the speakers. "It makes people happy?"_

_Dr. Light nodded. "That's the intention."_

_Blues smiled. "I like it."_

"_I'm glad to hear that, Blues,"_ _said the doctor, writing something down. "I myself like to listen to music as I work."_

_Blues examined the radio more thoroughly. He turned it around and inspected its backside, then moved it back again and poked the tiny screen. "Dr. Light," he said._

"_Yes, son?"_

_He twisted the knob in between the speakers, fiddling with the volume. "I am a machine, correct?"_

"_That's right," Dr. Light answered. "But a very special type of machine." He looked up from his blueprints. "Very different from that radio there."_

_Blues turned to face him. "What is it that makes me different?" he asked._

"_Well," Dr. Light began, putting down his pencil, "I gave you something we humans also have: independence."_

_The robot tested out the word. "Independence," he repeated slowly. It was new on his tongue. "This means I can make my own decisions?"_

"_To a certain degree, of course," the doctor explained. "You must follow your coding, after all."_

_Blues looked at the radio again. He played with a few more buttons. "This device," he said, "is not like I am."_

_Dr. Light rested a hand on the robot's shoulder. "That's also correct, my boy. That radio does not feel happy or sad like you can. It can't choose what to do on weekends. It doesn't even pick which songs it plays."_

_Blues looked at his creator. "It doesn't?" he said, incredulous. _

_Dr. Light chuckled. "I'm afraid not. That's a job for the people at the radio station."_

_Blues looked down. "I thought it was singing," he mumbled, embarrassed._

_Dr. Light ruffled Blues's hair. "My boy," he said, kneeling to match his son's height, "I have given you the ability to create your own identity in this world." He smiled tightly. "And that just might be the hardest thing you'll ever have to do."_

_The robot smiled back at him. "I'll do my best for you, Dr. Light."_

"_Not for me." Dr. Light shook his head. He put a finger to Blues's chest. "For yourself." He took a breath. "You might make people nervous, Blues. Unintentionally, of course. Please realize that you are not like any other machine out there. People might become afraid."_

"_Afraid of me?" Blues repeated. "Because I have weapons?"_

"_Well, yes, there's that." The doctor winced lightly. "But I'm talking about your independence. Humans are not yet used to such advanced robots. I want you to make good, logical decisions. Exercise your thought process. But always stay true to here"—he touched Blues's chest again—"okay?"_

_Most of Dr. Light's request the robot understood, but the last part confused him. "True to my power generator?" he asked, wanting clarification._

_Dr. Light laughed. "Not quite," he said with an amused grin. "I meant true to your heart." He placed a hand to his own chest. "Humans have hearts. I believe robots can, too. Following your heart will never be easy, Blues," he told his son, "but everyone deserves the opportunity to see where it'll lead him."_

_Blues met his creator's eyes. "Even a machine?" he asked quietly. _

"_You're not just a machine, Blues." Dr. Light smiled warmly. "You're my son. And I, too, will do my best for you."_

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Dr. Light," Blues mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

He looked down at his chest and the wires that sprouted from it. Tentatively he pulled them from his frame, coaxing their rubber exteriors between his fingers. There wasn't a metal table underneath him, but a couch. And he wasn't in the familiar Light Labs as he'd thought—hoped?—but in a half-lit living room that was just as recognizable.

Cadence was seated in the opposite chair. An open textbook rested in her lap. "You're awake," she said when she looked up. She was still in her day clothes, her jeans splattered in oil.

Blues propped himself up on his elbow and surveyed the dark living room. Gone were the fluorescent laboratory lights and dizzying stacks of paperwork. The music, however, was still present; a muffled radio played softly at the far end of the room. "Oh," he muttered. "I thought... Never mind."

Cadence closed the book that was in her lap. He couldn't make out the cover. "Are you feeling okay?" she asked.

He nodded uneasily, still shaken from his flashback. "All systems report nominal," he told her stiffly. An _I'm fine_ would have sufficed, thought Cadence. Still, some parts of him were more machine than they were man.

"Um, Blues," she began, rubbing her palms slowly over the textbook. Did he detect nervousness? "I found something that I wanted to talk to you about."

He considered her words. "Found something?" he parroted, shifting to a sitting position. His dizziness was gone, he noticed. And he no longer felt overheated. Whatever Cadence had done to him while he was out, must have worked to some degree. "Like what?" he asked, curious now.

Cadence inhaled. "Your power core," she said to the textbook. "I think it—"

"My power core?" Blues repeated, suddenly defensive. "You went into my systems?"

"Well, yeah," she said, as though it were obvious. "I had to—"

He stood up and balled his fists. "You went into my systems?" he said again, visibly angry. Cadence eyed him cautiously, but displayed no fear.

"It was the only way," she told him evenly, "to bring you back online."

Blues's head swirled with emotion. He felt familiar things: "betrayal," "disappointment," "worry." It was impossible to make sense of any of it. He wasn't sure how to put them all together.

"I trusted you!" he said finally. "Why did you open my control panel? How did you even gain access?"

"I told you," she repeated, her own voice rising. "It was the only way to revive you after your collapse."

At those words Blues froze. "What collapse?" he asked. The mechanical muscles in his arms loosened. He opened his fingers and relaxed his posture. No longer angry, only curious. And possibly slightly amnesiac.

"You don't remember?" Cadence asked him. "You short-circuited earlier today and passed out. I thought"—she swallowed—"I thought you…" She struggled to find a proper word, but only shook her head.

Blues shuffled back to the couch, seating himself with a gentle plop. "I don't remember," he mumbled to the floor.

"You don't?" she said, then waved a hand. "That's not important now." Her voice, which had always been honey, turned to cold glass. "What matters is that you get help. Because I don't know if I can fix this." The last words were weak.

"I don't want you to fix it," retorted Blues curtly. "I never asked you to."

"Your core's current condition is fatal," she went on. "There's nothing to stop it from overheating."

"I know," he said dismissively.

She didn't realize he had spoken. "The longer you wait, the worse it'll get," she asserted.

"I know," he said tiredly.

"You will die."

"I know!"

Without realizing it Cadence physically withdrew. She shifted uncomfortably, taken by his sudden outburst.

"I have always known I would die," said Blues. His words were heavy. Defeated, almost.

"But you don't have to," she told him. "Look, I think it's best if you go back home. You'll get more help there."

He scowled. "I'm not going home, Cadence," he said again. He was irritated with the words. He'd said them more than enough times before.

"Blues, listen to me," she said sternly. Her gaze pierced right through him. "You need to forgive your creator for whatever he did and—"

"I can't forgive him!" he exclaimed through gritted teeth.

"He's the only one who can save you, Blues," said Cadence sharply.

Blues brought a hand to his chest. His dying heart. "You don't understand," he huffed. "He's the one who did this to me."

"Don't act like he did it on purpose," she retorted. "It was a mistake. It's fixable now, but it might not be later."

"I don't want to see Doctor—_him_," he muttered. "I can't forgive him."

"You're running from your own salvation," she cried, exasperated. She stood up and tossed the textbook to the floor. "Why the hell won't you let him save you?"

"You don't understand," he growled.

"You're right," she snapped, "I don't. What's so bad about a little surgery?"

Blues sighed. He didn't want to yell at her anymore. He was already guilty for raising his voice. He looked away. "What if it changed me?" he asked, and Cadence fell silent.

"You were scared," she breathed.

"Of course I was," Blues whispered. "What if I woke up as someone else? I couldn't live with that."

Cadence felt a tug on her own heart. Human emotion could be conveyed through even a mechanical mindset—this had already been demonstrated for her. But human fear—so primal, so strong—was something inbred. If a machine was capable of instinctual human behavior, then where does one draw the line? Could a robot still be considered as such if it was very nearly, or mostly, human?

"I…" Cadence trailed off. She started again. "I've been waking up as someone else ever since my mother died."

Blues looked up at her. "What's it like?" he whispered.

She scoffed. "Oh, it's hell." She stepped towards him with that delectable smirk. The mood lifted slightly, but her tone was still serious. "I wish there was someone to open up my own heart and fix me," she told him softly. "So please. Get help."

She pressed her fingers gently into the robot's chest. He didn't have the hardened, metallic bulk of a machine, but the soft, warm flesh of a human being. It was artificial, of course—but it felt far too real.

Blues swallowed. The longer she touched him, the hotter he felt. Fearing he'd overheat again, he peeled her fingers from his frame.

Cadence ran a thumb over the tips of her other four fingers, the warmth of his chest still alive on her nerves. "You have a heartbeat," she noted a moment later.

"Why wouldn't I?" He recalled when he had brought up the same thing to Dr. Light and repeated his creator's answer: "Humans do, after all."

Cadence fell silent. Was his wish to become human? Perhaps the state of mortality would justify his inevitable death.

"Why are you helping me?" he whispered now. He wouldn't meet her eyes. If he looked into those chocolate irises, he'd drown.

Cadence considered his words. "Why wouldn't I?" she murmured into the dark, mirroring his own answer from earlier.

"I—I don't know," he stammered weakly, his head still down. "You're just"—he searched for a word—"different from everyone else I've encountered." He didn't list the ways she left him in awe—how just a strand of hair against her cheek could capture all of his attention. How her smile awakened within him something ancient, something lovely. How he wanted to draw closer but only succeeded in pulling himself away.

At that moment the phone rang, shattering the stillness of the night.

"I'll be right back," Cadence told him suddenly, and their conversation went no further. She hurried her way into the kitchen.

After her departure, Blues noticed a stack of textbooks splayed out, some open, on the coffee table: _Advanced Physics, Robotics Ethics, Calculus AB. _He reached for a notebook that was stacked on top. As he flipped through pages of intricate notes and diagrams, he stumbled upon something impossible: a sketch of himself, with _Proto Man (Blues) _writtenacross the top in wide, bold penmanship.

Blues lightly traced the drawing. His finger trailed the inner workings of his body—every circuit, every valve. The metal veins and mechanical organs that kept him functioning, all expertly drawn. He didn't believe it. This was the same sketch as the blueprints in Dr. Light's lab. As he scanned more and more pages, he recognized similar notes.

"Blues, someone wants to—oh." He whipped around at the voice.

Cadence was standing behind him, the phone useless in her hand. Her uneasy eyes landed on her notebook.

On the other side of the phone, a distraught physicist could not sleep. "Are you there, Cadence?" he asked when he could no longer hear her. "What do you mean you found my son?"


	7. Lethal

**Chapter Six**

"I—I'll call you back," Cadence spoke into the phone. _You remember me_, she marveled privately.

"No," said Dr. Light quickly, determined to keep her on the line. "Wait a minute. Cadence, is Blues there?"

In front of her Blues held out the notebook, which was open to the sketch of himself. "What is this?" he demanded.

Cadence's gaze fell to the drawing, but she couldn't truly focus on it. Dr. Light's voice broke her heart; he had the tone of a tired, broken man.

"Just tell me, Cadence," he said softly. "I'm not mad at you."

Her lungs loosened; she let out a relieved sigh. "You're—you're not?" she asked.

"No," he said, still just as calm. "So please. Tell me if Blues is there."

"Cadence," Blues growled, losing patience.

"Yes," Cadence breathed. "He's here." Those words startled the robot to life. Blues dropped the notebook so it could join the others on the floor.

"Who are you talking to?" he prodded.

"Blues, one second, please," the girl said quickly, holding up a hand. She turned away.

"Is he all right?" Dr. Light asked nervously. "Cadence, you should know his energy core—"

"I know all about it," she interjected. "And I'll explain."

"All about what?" Blues asked. He followed her as she began to pace the room. She shot him a look that told him to wait a second.

"You said he passed out," Dr. Light went on. "He's awake now?"

"He's fine," Cadence reassured him. _Besides the dying part_. "I remembered what you taught me and was able to bring him back online." She stepped over a stack of fallen textbooks. Blues trailed close behind her.

"He's fully recharged?" Dr. Light asked. After a moment's thought, he added, "Is he happy?"

The question—personal and broad—seemed out of place after such technical ones.

"W-well," Cadence began, looking back at the robot. She couldn't make out his eyes beyond those dark shades, but he seemed anxious. He chewed his lower lip uneasily.

Without a word he held out his hand.

"Why don't you ask him yourself?" Cadence whispered. She handed Blues the phone.

The robot held the phone awkwardly to his ear. He was so used to using his built-in communication transmitter that he never really had the use for a telephone.

Blues swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. "Hello?" he mumbled. He had a feeling who was on the other line, but Dr. Light's voice still caught him off guard. Something weakened in his knees.

"Blues!" exclaimed Dr. Light. "Blues, is that really you?"

Cadence watched him silently, her eyes wide and curious. _Talk to him_, she mouthed.

"Blues, son," Dr. Light said again, uneasy when he didn't answer. "Are you okay?"

Blues carefully considered the question. He wasn't sure what necessarily qualified for _okay_. He wasn't entirely well, he knew that. But not quite so awful, either.

He balled his fists. "I am no longer your son," he said instead.

"You'll always be my son," promised the physicist. "No distance between us can ever change that."

Blues shut his eyes tightly, trying to block out his words. A million questions whirred inside his head:

_What have you done since I left?_

_Have you looked for me?_

_How disappointed in me are you?_

_Will you replace me when I die?_

He glanced at Cadence, who began tidying the wreckage of textbooks across the floor.

_And, Doctor, what is this feeling?_

He squeezed the phone so hard he was surprised it didn't shatter in his hand. _You'll always be my son_, his creator promised.

"Do not say that to me," said Blues when he found his voice. _I have changed. _He slammed his thumb into the phone's red button, once again cutting the connection between them. Halfheartedly he tossed the phone onto the floor. Cadence picked it up, staring at the screen, and then at him.

"The call fell through," mumbled Blues. The girl stayed quiet.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Dr. Light studied the ceiling of the lab. Leaning back into his desk chair, he traced the tile patterns that hung above his head. He traced a lazy finger over the metal of his cell phone, which rested in his palm.

"Albert," he breathed, "why won't he just come home?"

Dr. Albert Wily was at the other end of the room, making use of the lab's coffee maker. Not surprisingly, the coffee maker was the most used machine in the room. It seemed a fresh pot was always brewing to keep the inventors at work.

Dr. Wily poured himself another mug. "Oh, give the brat another week. He'll come back."

Dr. Light turned to face his colleague. "It's been over a month already!"

Dr. Wily sighed. He walked slowly back to his friend's desk. A photo of father and robot son was displayed proudly beside the computer monitor. "Tom, you should have been prepared for this." He took a sip of his coffee. "You gave him the ability to make decisions. This is what he chose to do."

Dr. Light shook his head. "But I gave him a heart, too." He looked to the ceiling again, as though it might reveal an answer. "Why doesn't he see the pain he's causing?" he wondered aloud. "How can he disregard my compassion and just—just hang up on me?"

Dr. Wily squinted at the photo on the desk. "A heart, huh?" he mused. "His power core…"

That reminder sent the physicist spiraling into sadness. "His power core!" he repeated, tears in his eyes. "Not to mention he's dying and yet refuses my aid! It makes no sense, Al…"

Dr. Wily snickered. "I told you to write that rebellious streak out of his coding."

"This isn't a joke, Al."

"I knew you'd make this mistake," sighed Dr. Wily. Dr. Light looked at him with questioning eyes.

"You're too close to him," Dr. Wily accused. "He's a project, Thomas. Some projects fail. Put an 'X' next to his name in the inventory and move on."

Dr. Light stood up. "A father doesn't give up on his son!" he exclaimed. "If I give up on Blues, he will die!"

"Robots cannot die, Thomas!"

"You're just envious," Dr. Light snarled. "_I _was not banned from working on robotics." The words, though truthful, tasted bitter. He shifted his gaze to the floor, ashamed. "If he was your boy, you'd understand."

Dr. Wily sighed. He stirred his coffee with the pen from his coat pocket. "Perhaps," he agreed solemnly.

His colleague sat back down, resting his chin in his hand. "I designed him with the human condition in mind," he said thoughtfully. "Isn't it human nature to survive? To want to be saved?"

Dr. Wily shrugged. "Could be." He took another sip from his mug. "On the other hand… It is only humans who are aware of—and are able to accept—their mortality."

"In that case," he went on, clapping his friend on the shoulder, "you've done a fine job of programming."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The living room floor was once again visible. Books and folders were stacked neatly on the coffee table. Stray papers were once again ordered and organized. Blues sat with a blueprint in his lap, examining his design sketch.

"You knew Dr. Light," he marveled. He traced a finger over his creator's signature at the bottom of the print.

"We worked together all the time," said Cadence. "Even in grade school, I never had a friend such as him." She took a seat next to him on the couch, bringing her knees to her chest. "You deserve to know my half of the story," she told him. "It coincides with your own."

Blues shifted his position and leaned slightly forward. To hear her better, he told himself, though it was more to be closer to her. As she spoke, he took note of the curve of her mouth, the part of her lips, the way she made the words her own. Not once did he take his eyes from her.

For as long as she could remember, Cadence loved machines. She dreamed of one day living in Mega City, the robot capital of the world. Her passion for technology began with the endless stories she'd heard of advanced robotics. At the age of four she was dismantling and reassembling her remote control car and thinking of ways to make it faster, better.

"_Technology is the source of today's miracles,"_ she remembered reading. _"It is the modern magic, and those who expand it, its rightful spell casters."_

With wide eyes a young Cadence examined robots of her world. Her hometown was small and forgotten, and didn't see much in the ways of advanced robotics. All she knew of the field came from observing other cities, bigger worlds than her own. That was where she really belonged—amidst the most advanced technology and bustling city life.

The media kept frequent tabs on the growing robotics industry. Soon androids wouldn't merely be administering parking tickets or sweeping mindlessly along the sidewalks—they would be performing surgeries, building skyscrapers. They would assimilate into human society.

"Mom," Cadence had said at thirteen, tossing a stack of robotics magazines onto the kitchen table. "This is what I want to do." The magazine covers boasted pictures of bots large and small, engineered for automobile, construction, and medical fields.

"And this is how I'll do it." She dropped a brochure for the Robotics Institute of Technology on top of the magazines, beaming with pride. RIT was among the most prestigious schools in the country. Only those most serious about a career in robotics were accepted. Since Cadence discovered it, it had been her dream school; its location in Mega City made it all the more attractive.

"Cadence," said her mother slowly, looking over the magazines with a pained smile. "I'm happy for you, and I want this for you." She looked at her daughter. "But robotics is not a woman's field."

Cadence pouted. "So? I'll be the only girl in the class, big deal."

"No, Cadence, it's more than that." She brushed the hair from her daughter's eyes. "This road may be an unforgiving one. Are you prepared for that?"

Cadence shifted. "It's not exactly a simple subject," she reminded her. "I'm up to the challenge."

Her mother fingered the brochure gently. "RIT," she mused. She chuckled softly. "Goodness, Cadence, why can't you be interested in something simple?"

"I want this, Mom," said Cadence again, "no matter how tough it is." She picked up the brochure. "Plus I'd get to dorm in Mega City! Wouldn't that be so cool?"

Her mother chuckled at her enthusiasm. "As long as you're certain..." She kissed her forehead. "But no experiments in the house."

Cadence laughed. Her dream was set. High school passed in three quick years. (An elite summer program enabled her to graduate one year early.) Her acceptance letter to RIT hung proudly in her room; at just seventeen she would be attending one of the most prestigious universities, majoring in her lifelong passion.

She would have never predicted who her professor would be.

A beard as white as his lab coat. Unmistakable dark blue eyes. A friendly demeanor underneath the professional presentation. And not so underneath, the slight discomfort with public speaking.

"Dr. Thomas Light," whispered Cadence as she took her seat. She glanced at her desk partner. "You mean he's our professor?"

"Guess so." The boy grinned. "It's part of a program that they're doing. RIT requested notable alumni to come back and teach for a few semesters."

"Notable?" Cadence scoffed. "The man's a genius." She read about him all the time. Every robotics magazine, it seemed, and every science article, seemed to mention him in some respect.

At the end of the first class, Dr. Light—down to Earth as he was—shook hands with each of the students and personally wished them success.

"Let's see here…" He scanned the attendance sheet and smiled at her. "Cadence, is it?"

"Y-yes," the girl answered. It was the only word she could manage, she was so awestruck.

The doctor held out his hand. "I look forward to having you in my class."

She took it gratefully, grinning embarrassedly. She was sure there was no way she could impress him. "Thank you," she said, controlling her nerves. "Me too."

But impress him she did—so much so that she was often summoned to his lab to help him with his projects. Internships were not part of the curriculum that RIT alumni had to fulfill, but Dr. Light couldn't let the opportunity escape. Here he had a chance to personally influence the life of a young roboticist. It was a project he had anticipated for who knew how long.

One day in particular is burned into memory.

"Dr. Light?" Cadence called as she entered the lab. "The door was unlocked. I hope you don't mind—"

"Nonsense, Cadence," he interrupted. "Come here, quick!" Dr. Light gestured wildly for her to join him at his desk. She peered over his shoulder curiously.

"What's this?" she asked, examining the rough design sketch. "DLN-000..."

"Also known as Proto Man, or—more personally—Blues," the doctor added. "He will be the first of his kind. I don't know yet just what I'll call this line of robots, but it'll be groundbreaking!"

Cadence's eyes followed the inner pathways of the robot's mechanical organs. "He looks so…"

"Human, right?"

She nodded, her eyes still attached to the blueprint. "What's this for, anyway? Another military request?"

"No," said Dr. Light, "just a personal project of mine." He ran a hand over the sketch. "This is no ordinary robot, Cadence. He'll have the power to think and act on his own. He won't just appear very nearly human—he'll behave in the same manner as well."

Cadence raised her eyebrows. She looked at her mentor and found he was completely serious. "That's—that's a big task." She shook her head. "Is it even possible?"

"Anything is." Dr. Light stapled his gaze to hers. "What do you think?"

While there was no way she could bring herself to disagree with the genius, she admitted the idea seemed a little far-fetched. She wasn't about to tell him so, but he caught her expression and laughed.

"You look skeptical," he said with a grin.

"I'm not," she chuckled, although she was. "I want this to pull through. I'd love to meet DLN—er, Blues."

"Then let me show you what I'd like to do," he began. He grabbed a pen and began tracing the inside of the robot's frame. "Add some sensors here… The main control panel here…"

Cadence nodded. "Good idea. And you should add a ventilation system, to prevent overheating."

Without a word Dr. Light offered her the pen.

She didn't accept it right away. "You mean, you want me to—?"

"I didn't call just for your company," he told her with a smirk. "I'd like your input as well."

Cadence went pale. She took the pen carefully from him, as though it might explode in her hand and all over the blueprint. Aware of her mentor's watchful gaze, she nervously made additions to Blues's design.

She finished quickly, unsure of how far to go. "Thank you," she said, suddenly shy. She handed the him back his pen.

Dr. Light smiled warmly. "You're not just my apprentice, Cadence," he began. "You're my colleague. I'm joyed to share my ideas with such a brilliant mind."

Cadence's heart pounded, a proud smiling tugging on her lips. Dr. Light called her brilliant. The words were sweeter than any dream.

"Don't tell Dr. Wily now," he teased. "Albert gets jealous of anyone who shares me."

Cadence laughed as, as though on cue, Dr. Wily burst through the door. A couple of textbooks rested underneath his arm.

"Those damn kids," he grumbled. "Can't even recall simple formulas from high school." He stomped across the floor of the lab without so much as a hello.

Dr. Light concealed his mouth in an effort to hide his amused grin. Cadence swallowed her chuckles. But when they once again were alone, they laughed so hard that they split their ribs.

Months passed. Dr. Light shared not only his ideas for DLN-000 Blues, but the workload as well. Nearly every weekend was spent at Light Labs hauling supplies up from the basement, testing new circuits, or beginning programming for the world's most advanced AI yet.

"Easy, Cadence!" Dr. Light warned. The girl was attempting to attach a circuit board to Blues's exposed chest. More than once she zapped herself.

"My fingertips are frying," she grumbled, failing to angle the circuit board correctly yet again.

"Let me take over," he offered, gently taking the board from her hands. "Why don't you go see if the data for the IC chip has finished downloading?"

"On it." Cadence made a beeline for the computer.

"You're sure this is a good idea?" muttered an irritated Dr. Wily. He stood up from his spot at the end of the room, where he had been observing the two at work. "She's just a kid. She could screw it all up."

"Quite the contrary, Albert," Dr. Light disagreed cheerfully. He looked back at the girl in front of the computer monitor. "Cadence has more than surpassed my expectations. She's easy to work with, not to mention she's truly intelligent." He gave his friend another signature smile. "I'm only aiding her in carving her future."

"Well," Dr. Wily huffed, "if the school finds out how much private work you've been giving her, you'll have your own future to worry about."

Dr. Light smiled uncomfortably. "I'm aware," he said guiltily. "But it's not like we're doing anything necessarily wrong. Our work is completely ethical."

Dr. Wily raised his eyebrows at his friend's last sentence. "Trying to tell me something, Tom?"

Dr. Light's eyes widened. "Oh—!" he said quickly. "I didn't mean it like that, Al. Honest." Dr. Wily grunted in disbelief. "I know it's been hard on you since your ban from robotics," continued Dr. Light, "and especially since they fired you from the university. But you'll find work. I'm confident in that."

"It doesn't matter," sighed Dr. Wily, going back to his seat. "Go back to building Jazz."

"Er, Blues."

"Same thing."

Another day of work lasted well beyond midnight. As Cadence gathered her things to leave, she took one final look at the young man on the operating table.

"He looks asleep," she noted. More than that. He looked human.

"Another week or two and he'll be ready to awaken," promised Dr. Light. "For now, get home safely. And Cadence?" He grinned through the dull 2 AM lighting. "Thank you for all your work these past few months."

She shook her head, edging her way out the door. "I should be thanking you. I never could have imagined the opportunities that you've given me." She gave a final glance to Blues before heading out into the night.

"Cadence," said Dr. Light one gray afternoon, "you can't stay here."

"I won't go home!" Cadence cried. She plopped herself onto the couch and buried her face in her hands.

"Cadence, I'll get you a cab out of Mega City," Dr. Light offered. "But you need to go home immediately. You have a sister there."

"I won't go back," the teen choked. "Please let me stay here."

"I'm not allowed to," said the physicist sternly. "You know that."

Dr. Wily emerged from the kitchen, coffee mug in hand. "Poor kid," he mumbled. "You have my condolences," he said to Cadence. He placed a hand on her caved shoulder.

"Cadence," began Dr. Light, "did you gather your stuff from the dorm?" The girl shook her head. "I'll help you," he told her. He looked up at the other doctor. "Call a cab, will you, Al?" Dr. Wily nodded and disappeared from the room.

Cadence rose from the couch. "If I leave now," she said, her words unsteady, "I'll never see you again."

"Of course you will," Dr. Light dissented. "I'm not going anywhere. Neither is RIT."

"But how am I supposed to come back?" Cadence sniffled. "Duet's just a kid. I'll have to take care of her now."

"There isn't any other family," he asked, "that can care for her while you're in school?"

"Not any close to where I live," answered Cadence. "And I don't want to sell my mother's house. That's all that's left of her now." She smiled brokenly. "Please," she scoffed, "let me lose one thing at a time."

The doctor nodded. "I—I understand." With a sigh he studied the remains of his student. She looked picked apart, ravaged by an unfair fate. Cadence wiped her cheeks in frustration, as though aggravated with her own tears.

"Cadence," said Dr. Light wistfully, "in the awful event that you don't return to RIT—"

"Don't say that," she begged. If he didn't say it out loud, perhaps it wouldn't happen.

"No, you need to hear this." He took a breath. "I must tell you how grateful I am to have worked with such an intelligent young woman." He blinked away the mist in his eyes. "You have restored more than my childhood vigor and energy—you have rekindled my passion for robotics."

"Dr. Light," she sniffled.

"You have been an asset to my class," he went on, "and it has been an honor to share what I know." He quickly wiped his eyes. "You have been of endless help to me—and not just with Blues or other smaller projects. Just talking about the weather with you has been enough to heal this tired heart." He brought a hand to his chest.

"There is no doubt in my mind," he concluded. "I am a changed man."

In that moment Cadence had already lost several things: a school, a city, a mother. But she was about say goodbye to one more: the man who had been her inspiration since age eight. The one with whom she spent Sunday afternoons when there was no work to do except the weekend crossword. The man who helped fulfill her childhood dream, who shared her passion and brought it to life.

She hugged him until the taxi arrived.

In the backseat of the car, she ran a finger across the ten digits of Dr. Light's cell phone number. _Just in case_, he told her. In case of what, she wasn't sure.

The cab glided effortlessly over the bridge. It was the last she saw of Mega City.


	8. And

**Chapter Seven**

The night was heavy with the weight of confession.

Cadence leaned back into the couch cushion with a slow sigh. It was exhausting, to relive the past. She felt everything all over again.

"I really had no idea," Blues mumbled. "I mean, I never would have guessed…"

"Neither would have I," Cadence chuckled, recounting her unusual history. Working with the greatest name in modern robotics was not something she would have ever expected. But she had one last thing to say.

"Blues," Cadence whispered into the night. She looked right at him, and the world stopped spinning. "Do you know why you were created?"

Blues stared back at her, drawn into those melted chocolate irises. Those eyes of hers were so strong, it was always impossible to look away. "_Why_ I was created?" he repeated. His mind wandered back to what Dr. Light had always said in interviews: "_Blues will demonstrate the advancements of today's robotics."_

Blues shifted in his seat. "Well, I used to be a lab assistant," he mused. He looked down at his arm cannon. "Then I was equipped for combat." He hated that word. "And I'm the prime example of what today's technology can do. I was designed to impress." Then he thought about his other name: _Proto Man_. The first stage-the mere introduction-of the new world of robots to come. The first draft, the preliminary model.

He realized his true fate, and looked down. "I'm the prototype for something better."

"Stop that," said Cadence sternly. "I already gave you a pep talk on being a prototype."

Blues furrowed his brows. "But that's my reason for existence," he told her. "I'm the introduction of a new line of robots called Robot Masters. It's even in my technical name: DLN-000." He looked up at the ceiling, lost in thought. "Eventually there'll be a DLN-018, a DLN-40…"

"Blues," said Cadence before he could go on, "Dr. Light wanted a son."

The robot looked back to her. "Huh?"

She said it again: "Dr. Light wanted a son."

Blues was baffled. "What do you mean, he wanted a son?"

Cadence was getting impatient. "I mean he wanted a son! Someone to toss a baseball around with or something. He…" She looked down. "He didn't create you as a display of modern robotics. He created you because he wanted to share his life and successes with someone." She met his shades, hoping she was connecting with his eyes somewhere behind them. "You're his child."

_A son. _That's impossible. "That can't be," said Blues, staring at his hand. "I was made to express the reaches and limits of modern robotics, not…" He sighed. "Not take the presence of a human child." He transformed his hand into an arm cannon, then back again, feeling a familiar dismay.

"_Blues, are you all right?"_

_The robot studied his new arm cannon. He switched back and forth between his hand and his gun. The soft, warm flesh of a human boy—the hardened metal of a killing machine. How could the two exist in the same body? In the same joint?_

"_You gave me a weapon," Blues mused. He touched the barrel of the cannon carefully, inspecting it._

_Dr. Light glanced down where Blues's hand used to be. "That's right. We discussed this for the military project, remember?"_

"_I thought we weren't following through on that," Blues mumbled._

"_Well," said Dr. Light with a light shrug, "someone from the Ministry of Defense sat in on our lecture. He was thoroughly impressed by your abilities. He thinks there's a place for you in combat, perhaps."_

"_Combat," repeated Blues. He looked up at his creator. "I will hurt people?"_

"_N-no," stammered Dr. Light, "that's not it. Look, son, he just wants to administer a test. I'm not shipping you off to war."_

_Blues wasn't convinced. "What if they want you to design military robots? Will you reuse my blueprints?"_

"_Of course not," exhaled the doctor, aghast. "I'm not designing combat bots. And under no circumstances will you be replicated."_

_Blues lost his patience. "Then why do something you don't want to?" he asked. The truth was he didn't want to enter combat either; he was more than fine being a lab assistant._

"_Look, Blues," Dr. Light sighed, putting a hand on his boy's shoulder. "Sometimes, when you're at the top of a certain field, you have to do what is expected of you."_

"_I don't understand," mumbled Blues. _

"_It's like this: Currently I'm at the top of the robotics world, right?" His creator smiled sheepishly. "So people are looking up to me. They're asking me to demonstrate what else I know. That involves showing off a combat bot—you know how important the war efforts are."_

_Blues nodded. "Yeah," he said, "but why not just show off how I can beat you in chess or recite any document you've fed into my 'brain'?"_

_Dr. Light sighed again. "Unfortunately, son, that's not what's important to them. They don't want to see the person I've created out of a bot—they see only the machine: how fast you can run, react, and...attack." He nearly choked on the last word. _

_Blues was looking at his arm cannon again._

"_I won't ask you to do something like this again," the doctor told him. "And you'll only be shooting fake targets—wooden bullseyes. I couldn't miss another opportunity for you to make me proud."_

_Blues smiled at that. If there was anything he wanted to do, it was make his creator proud. "Okay," he relented. "Deal."_

_Dr. Light ruffled his hair. "It's not easy being at the top," he told him. "But the view is worth it."_

"So," said Cadence softly now, "try to understand how Dr. Light feels, that his only son is gone."

Blues went quiet. Dr. Light had always called him _son_, but he considered it merely a term of endearment. Which it was, of course, but he'd never thought about how his creator may have really seen him as his own child.

"Imagine how Dr. Light feels," countered Blues softly, almost hesitantly, "now that his best student has given up."

Cadence stared at him a second, then turned away just as quickly. "This isn't about me," she told him, annoyed.

"Some of it is."

"I…" Cadence scoffed weakly. "I didn't give up." But her mind was on the textbooks she had piled in the closet for so long. She used to spend hours buried inside them, devouring them like novels. Where they had once been a collection of the knowledge she so desperately sought, they now only collected dust.

Cadence was haunted by her dream, but she had no choice.

"My mother died," she said quietly. She felt like a child again. "I had to come home to care for my sister."

Blues moved closer to her. "But you didn't have to give up," he insisted. "Why would you abandon something that means so much to you?"

"Ask my father," Cadence muttered, then cleared her throat. "I mean, I never meant to stop, stuff just...got in the way."

Blues took a textbook from the coffee table and pressed it into her hands.

"You have a future in this," he whispered. "Please don't give it up."

Cadence ran a finger down the worn spine of her book. She opened it up, lightly tracing the notes she had made on particle acceleration. Her handwriting was rushed, jagged, when in the middle of lectures. A code only she could decipher.

She chuckled lightly. "Why are you so adamant that I pick up robotics again?" She was still staring at the pages, flipping through them delicately, as though she'd rip them.

Blues's answer came easy. "Because," he said simply, "without people like you, there wouldn't be people like me." He looked down. "I—quite literally, I guess—owe you my life."

He knew what he'd said. He'd called himself a person. An actual, human person. It should have felt wrong—and it did a little, admittedly—but that's what he felt around Cadence: human.

Cadence caught this. "People like you, huh?" She smiled when she said it, and her eyes were kind. She looked up to the ceiling. "Well, what makes a person?" she asked nobody in particular.

_This pounding in my chest, _thought Blues. _These swirls of question and feeling. This sensation of soaring, then falling headfirst. That is what I am when I'm with you: in-flight, then underground._

He looked over at Cadence in the low light, and wanted so badly to say everything.

_But I'm an imitation_, he concluded silently, _designed to replicate human behavior. These "feelings" may be nothing more than a game of pretend. What I "feel" may very well have been programmed into my code long before I ever met you._

He watched her hair fall in gentle waves around her cheeks, as she turned to yet another page. His chest was always hurting, and be it the faulty power core or the softness of this girl's eyes, he couldn't be sure.

_But let's keep playing_, he resolved. _In the end I'll lose, but I'm already too far in the game._

Cadence sighed. "Can I ask you a question?" she said after a minute. She looked back at him.

Blues shrugged away his other thoughts. "Sure."

"It's been a week and you haven't taken those off," she remarked, gesturing to his signature shades.

"Oh," he said, remembering they were on. He'd found them on his travels, and thought it a good way to conceal his identity. It took a lot to abandon who he used to be. He thought he'd start by concealing his eyes—the "windows to the soul," as the humans dubbed them.

Another metaphor that couldn't apply to machines, but he admired the imagery.

"So…" drawled Cadence, expecting him to take them off. She smiled fleetingly at him.

He wanted to tell her that he couldn't. Exposing his eyes would be to finally unveil every part of him. She had already gone into his systems (hell, she had designed some parts, too). The only thing she'd never seen were his eyes. It would be abandoning himself all over again.

It would be like surrendering.

But here Cadence was smiling so sweetly at him, and one look at her sent his whole being into a wondrous kind of frenzy. Her hair was tousled from a night of restless sleep, but she looked so lovely still, so beautifully _human_, that he realized he could no longer pull away even if he tried. He felt cast out at sea, prepared to drown in her morning of possibility.

She was worth his surrender, he realized. And he took off his shades.

For a moment Cadence stared. She wasn't sure what she was expecting, but still she was surprised. Blues looked back at her almost shyly.

"What is it?" he muttered, uncomfortable. She hadn't moved, hadn't blinked. She only shook her head. He was tempted to look away, a familiar heat rising underneath his cheeks.

"You're lovely," she breathed. His eyes were the ocean. The light danced into his irises, which shimmered and gleamed like gemstones. Far more beautiful than any human's eyes, she noted, but not too different that they appeared unnatural.

Another piece of his puzzle fell into place. At last she could make out the subtle changes in his eyes that gave away his emotions. He was looking at her embarrassedly, eyes uneasily flickering to the table, then to her again, then to the window behind her.

"Relax," she said with a chuckle. "I'm only admiring you."

Blues smiled awkwardly, then straightened his lips again. His grin was addictive when paired with those eyes; Cadence could stare all morning.

"Sapphires," he said then.

Cadence squinted a little, like she always did when she was confused. Blues had memorized her facial contortions by now. His smile was her favorite, though. It was effortless and beautiful.

When she asked what he meant, he explained: "Dr. Light crushed blue sapphires, and used them to imitate light bouncing off human irises. My eyes aren't entirely jewels—mostly glass, really—but the light sprinkle of sapphires gives the right amount of depth."

Cadence leaned forward in her seat, searching his gaze. "They're very beautiful."

"Like you."

He didn't mean to say it. His heart fell to the floor when he realized what he'd done. There was no taking it back now. His cheeks were as red as his shoes.

Cadence may have blushed herself. She giggled awkwardly, flattered. "Thank you." The softness of her eyes made his chest ache.

He nodded. They were so close he could barely keep still—everything within him was trembling. And yet he wanted to be even closer—it was oddly addicting, this pleasant anxiety. There was no threat of danger, yet his sensors foolishly acted so.

"You're amazing, you know that?" said Cadence, studying his face. The subtle curve of his jaw, the soft rise of his cheekbones—and those blue eyes that watched her like she was the only thing in the room.

Blues kept glancing at her lips. They were small, pink, and almost shiny—he'd watched her use a thin utensil on them to make them glossy. Now, in the low light, they were oddly inviting.

_I really must not be well_, thought Blues to himself, because he wanted only to do one thing now.

He'd watched humans kiss before and, initially, thought it an unusual practice. He didn't understand it—how could connecting at the mouth express love? There was that mysterious word again. Dr. Light had told him he loved him lots of times, but even he didn't seem to be sure of the science behind it.

"_Love is…" the doctor tried. "It's like…" He sighed, smiling tiredly. "It's something you can't live without."_

_Blues was seated on the lab table, swinging his legs in leisure. "How do you know when you...have it?"_

"_Oh," chuckled Dr. Light, "you feel it. You just know." He ruffled his boy's hair. "Some things, Blues, you just know."_

That still unnerved him. He couldn't understand how you could just _know_ something, without careful analysis or attentive observation.

But Dr. Light couldn't be wrong. Dr. Light was never wrong. And he supposed that maybe he did just _know_ something after all: He knew that being around Cadence was like discovering another world. He wanted to drown himself in her company. He knew that he was oddly addicted to her, the way humans crave sugar or salt.

_Maybe I, as a machine, have no right to try to define love_. But his mortality had been making him a little reckless. If he could turn his back and abandon the only life he'd ever known, then surely he could kiss the pretty girl in front of him.

Cadence was saying something. He didn't let her finish.

She hummed in surprise, but didn't withdraw. She was too stunned to move at all, really. Unsure of how to address her desire to kiss him back.

_There's a robot kissing me_, her head screamed. And dammit, he was actually kind of _good_. His lips were a little clumsy, obviously untrained, but the _pull_ was still there. The magic, chemistry. Whatever it was, it was there.

_And I want to kiss him back_, her mind exclaimed. So she did.

_Humans are so warm_, Blues noted. Their skin, their lips, their mouth-everything had this gentle heat. And a taste-everything had its own flavor. Cadence's mouth tasted like evening coffee. He hoped his didn't taste like E Tank.

_Maybe he's human_, considered Cadence, a bit seriously. _Who else could kiss like this, move like this…_ She pressed her lips hard against his, feeling them break apart then slide over hers. His movements were precise, but also gentle, tentative. Enough to be human. More than enough to be human.

_Perhaps you're the thing that's killing me_, thought Blues. He ran his fingers through her long hair, and she hummed in content. He'd always wanted to do that. She rested her hands on his neck, and everything—the "worry," the "pain"—it all went away. _I have a hundred places to be_, he mused silently, opening his mouth against hers. _But you take me somewhere else entirely. _

_I have always known I would die,_ he thought as she deepened the kiss. _But I will go quietly and willfully, if you should spell my end. _


End file.
